


A Reason to Survive

by semisweet



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character Study, Community: story_lottery, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semisweet/pseuds/semisweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney remembers Canada and "that stubborn, female version of himself only younger" he left there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reason to Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Back story might not be canonically accurate.

* * *

There is something Rodney has never told anyone. Whenever a problem arises, the real kind, one of the ones that will inexorably lead the two hundred members of the expedition to the brink of death, when he believes it's over and they're all going to die an atrocious death, just before Sheppard orders him to get a grip, Ronon sends him that 'don't screw up now, McKay' look and Teyla becomes dauntingly calm and supportive, he thinks about Jeannie. If there's one good reason to survive, besides not dying, which scares him like hell—even though no one needs to know that—it's that stubborn, female version of himself only younger, his last connection to Earth who, he's sure, would be devastated if something happened to him. And in the bottom of his heart— he's not that mean, really—inflicting such pain to someone who's been nice to him most of his life, isn't something he is willing to let happen.

So, after he saves the day and can harvest thanks, he takes a minute or an hour to recover from his self-interested heroism and let his thoughts take over, and bring him back to Canada.

*

He used to bring Jeannie to the park and watch her while she played on the jungle gym—or rather send a glance or two in her direction every five minutes to make sure she was still around—when he turned the page of the latest Batman comics he had bought on his way home from piano practice. When and if Dad asked, he assured him he'd been reading the scientific articles he had brought home from work. It took Rodney one rapid read through to get the gist and make up one sentence or two to prove his father he had read them. He had an aptitude for remembering scientific theories which, for ordinary mortals, equaled gibberish. He liked the responsibility, being old enough to take care of Jeannie, and as long as it meant no more babysitter who talked to him like he had two neurons, when he had more than she had left, he was winning on all fronts.

*

He brought Jeannie to the park to tell her he was leaving for college. He sat on a bench, Jeannie on a swing, flying higher and higher up, pretending his leaving was no big deal. She didn't want to go back home and face the harsh reality of seeing her brother pack to leave, and made him chase after her in the alleys for about an hour. Rodney wasn't amused. He expected an apology but instead, she threw herself in his arms and whispered in a strained voice, "I'll miss you Meredith".

The walk home, Rodney felt the burn of guilt in his throat, and made himself the promise never to cause his sister more pain. Seeing her eyes shining with tears, he swallowed the bitter taste of betrayal, and no matter how much he tried to see reason, serenading himself that leaving his family for college was a defining moment in his life, his first step into adulthood, a normal process, a rite of passage, he couldn't resign himself with leaving her behind.

*

He came home for Christmas. The idea of spending _that_ holiday alone in a deserted campus and gloomy dorm room wasn't very appealing. He thought Jeannie would be happy to see him. When he crossed the threshold with a suitcase, his backpack and a few hastily-wrapped presents, she barely acknowledged him. His folks ascribed her behavior to her teen years; Rodney to living with them. Despite hating the snow and the cold, he offered her to take a walk in the neighborhood to raise her spirits. She accepted, suspicious yet welcoming his effort. She didn't need to know their mother asked or … demanded.

They walked together, the silence between them heavier than the winter weather. Rodney wasn't that much surprised when they ended up in the park, desolate at that time of year, the unstained white vastness where a few years before they built the most gigantic and shabby-looking snowman one cannot even imagine. They had the picture to prove it. The snow covered the trees branches, the jungle gym bars, and a layer of at least fifteen centimeters concealed the bench, making sitting not an option.

Jeannie had changed a lot in a few months. She wasn't speaking nor teasing him anymore. Patience wasn't something he mastered well, and after reaching his limits, he couldn't take it any longer. He threw a snowball in her direction, the icy wind carrying out his yelling voice to her a few meters away. "Tell me what's wrong with you so we can go home and try to warm up before our fingers fell off?"

She started crying. Rodney's already pale complexion turned paler, almost the shade of their surroundings. Sentiments! He couldn't deal with them. When she was a child, he put on a brave face, but she wasn't anymore, he had just come to that realization. The little girl he remembered reading fairytales to, pushing on the swing, or learning how to ride a bike belonged in the past, in his memories and to an old scrapbook album full of yellowed pictures.

Through her sobs, Rodney understood her first love had dumped her, and he surprised them both with a spontaneous act of big brother affection, saying "I'm sorry", offering a hug and a suggestion: he would have a talk with the moron or a fist fight. Somehow that idea made her chuckle and he greeted the hint of a smile on her lips. "I know it hurts," he said, "but he didn't deserve you. Anyone who abandons you isn't smart enough for you."

"Thanks, but you don't know, Mer." She had so much assurance sometimes, and so much for someone who less than five minutes earlier was crying over a boy. "Mom and Dad think you're a virgin and that it'll be a miracle if you ever get married."

He forced a smile on his face, awkward at best, but he hid it with his scarf. Definitely not ready to discuss that particular subject with her —now or never—he chose to end the talk before it started. They spent the walk back home in similar quietness. At least, his family thought about him, or worry (not to say agonize) over his miserable condition, but the day he would make a groundbreaking discovery, that day, maybe they would be glad he never was that much into dating. If he were closer to his parents, maybe he would tell them the truth: they assumed wrong. And he would leave out the part where he had to pay money for that statement to become erroneous.

*

Buds, butterflies and green grass had replaced the white landscapes when Rodney came back to the park, a few months later. They had walked home from the cemetery, not ready to deal with the guests just yet. Jeannie felt like walking and taking a breath. Rodney's frustration tainted their reunion. All this time spent with one sole objective winning his father's respect as a scientist, and losing him before he could hear him say, "Son, I'm proud of you", was too much for Rodney to take.

He had to ask Jeannie. "Do you think Dad was proud of me?"

She couldn't answer. Instead, she wiped a tear from her cheek. "Ask Mom".

The bench was still there, though occupied. Rodney found himself wishing for that intruding, thief of an old woman to walk away from _their_ bench like you'd wish the traffic lights turn green. When they approached, bearing the weight of their loss in their demeanor and attires, she stood up and left bowing her head as in prayer.

The sun enveloped them as if to warm their bodies for lack of warming their hearts. Rodney held Jeannie's hand, his so sweaty, hers so cold. He half-expected his sister to launch into a funny father daughter memory, but instead she asked, "Can you do something for me Rodney?"

"Of course, anything."

"Would you walk me down the aisle? I'm getting married."

Rodney remembered fuming, shouting horrible, hurtful, heated words and not being able to stop. That's when he learned he scared little children… and could perform as a canine orchestra conductor.

*

After a few weeks of reflection, he asked Jeannie to meet with him at their secret sibling rendezvous point in the park. She came. Not alone. With a baby, in her belly.

"Jeannie... How?... What?... Why?..." came out of his mouth in a river of onomatopoeias and other one syllable words.

"I know, right? I'm glad you called, Mer."

But one more time, he lost his temper and resumed the shouting, waving his arms around to punctuate his tactless monologue. And all the beautiful words he had prepared to tell her, the genuine, long-winded apology he had written just crumbled into a paper ball in his hand. He couldn't tell her the truth. He wasn't ready to give her away. He had lost his father. He still needed his sister. He wasn't ready to lose her, too. Especially to some English Major with a name coming from the Old Testament.

"You finish school and we work together. That was the plan."

"Well the plan changed. Dad's not here anymore. This is the life I've chosen. Can't you be happy for me? Just once in your life. Why does it always have to be about you?"

She walked away as fast as she could given her state, and he sat there on that bench, alone, feeling worthless. Sentiments! He couldn't deal with them. How could that be? He was a genius after all, so why couldn't he figure that one out?

*

Rodney was sent to Siberia, confined on base, living away from daylight like a vampire, and so busy, he hardly had enough energy left to blink. He thought about his sister sometimes, and her kid who, according to his calculations, would turn one in late autumn, early winter. He'd send a card, if he could leave that area of cold temperatures, dull whiteness and dehydrated food.

He knew Jeannie and Caleb had gotten married eventually. They didn't mail him an invitation to the wedding and he suspected the present he sent had ended up in a garbage bin, tossed away in an attic or auctioned on EBay.

Then, the SGC called and offered him to join the Atlantis expedition and he accepted right away, it was his golden opportunity, a once in a lifetime chance. Before he left for another galaxy, (_another galaxy!!!_) he went back home, strolled around his childhood neighborhood, when he realized he might not come back. Ever. So he pocketed his pride—something he should have done a long time ago—found Jeannie's number and left her a message. He waited for her on the bench for three hours. She didn't come.

He left for the unknown, this unknown to his last link with Earth.

*

Six years later, Rodney's back in Vancouver for a short visit to his sister, maybe the last. The city of the ancestors and its inhabitants—after almost a year of hearing all sorts of rumors—received the green light to go back to Pegasus.

The April breeze cast chills in Rodney's neck, and as he adjusts his jacket's collar, he looks up from the latest issue of the _Wormhole Extreme_ comics he's been perusing, lamenting he's not in it. Maddie's playing on the jungle gym, just like her mother used to do.

Jeannie's there, too, with another baby in her belly, talking about a paper her husband published in a prestigious literature revue. And Rodney realizes that if there was one good reason to survive, it was to live that day. And who knows maybe in twenty years, they'll be here on that same bench, arguing, while Maddie will sat next to their tired selves, watching a blond little girl climbing the jungle gym, caressing her own belly home to another baby.

  


_The End_   



End file.
